


And Apparently Christmas Is Early Too

by lary



Series: Exploration [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, Come Eating, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Science Bros, Strength Kink, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is totally done being cock-blocked by some tacky Supervillain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Apparently Christmas Is Early Too

 

 

Even when on a top-priority mission, U is hardly a subtle robot. Thankfully when Bruce is in the zone, he doesn't tend to notice anything around himself. Well, almost anything. Tony smirks, not looking away from his screen at the sound of something dropping on Bruce's desk.

 

The awesome part is that it still takes Bruce five minutes to notice, by which time Tony's smirk has grown into an outright grin. But finally he hears a choked sound from the other man.

 

“...Tony, what is this?”

 

“It's a ball gag.” Tony says. He finally looks up and yes, Bruce does make a hilarious (yet sexy) picture in a lab coat and his adorable glasses, papers strewn all over his desk – because he's a paper kind of guy, which is just weird, but whatever, he's is still a genius so Tony can overlook it – holding a red ball gag and pinning Tony with a glare that Tony would protest is totally undeserved, except there's the kind of heat behind it that's exactly what he's going for.

 

“Thanks, I had figured that much out myself,” Bruce replies, dry as a desert, and this is just one of so many things Tony loves about him. “Can I ask what it's doing on my desk?”

 

“I was hoping you would, actually.” Tony flicks his own holographic screens away with quick fingers and saunters over to lean against Bruce's desk. “See, I'm all for Avengers saving the day, and science bros to the rescue with figuring out why the newest batch of Doombots are so much more fucking annoying than the old ones. But I've also got healthy priorities and frankly I'm done being cock-blocked by a guy in a cheap rip-off of an armour who talks about himself in third person. That's just tacky.”

 

Bruce hums contemplatively, puts the gag down, and finally starts to move his papers and pens around into a familiar formation that looks exactly as messy but is apparently crucial for Bruce being able to leave his desk barring emergency situations. Tony can appreciate that, despite their apparently differing definitions of an emergency, because he likes not being the only eccentric genius around.

 

“Shouldn't be too hard on the guy,” Tony continues. “I mean, not everybody can have my style. But still, Supervillains should at least put a bit of an effort into making an impression. With all the trouble they give us it's really the least they can do. As crazy as Loki was, he at least knew how to make an entrance. Is it wrong if I miss him just a little bit? I guess the God thing helped, mere mortals like Doom just can't compete. Wonder if Thor's keeping a good eye on his little brother, maybe he shouldn't work too hard on that.”

 

He falters when Bruce looks up, fixing Tony with an intense gaze. His lips tilt into a smile as he weighs the gag in his hand. “Yes, I think I see how this would come in handy.”

 

Tony swallows, feels tingly and hot all over, and doesn't dare to respond because he has a sudden thought that he might be quiet even without the gag if Bruce ordered him in that voice. He's not quite ready to share the frankly impressive new depths of submissive tendencies he's recently finding in himself, not when they've still technically only had sex on that one occasion, even if said occasion did include so many _occasions_ that Tony lost count.

 

“Open up,” Bruce says and Tony's rapidly becoming so fucking hard because being gagged in the middle of his workshop – with _glass windows_ – must be on of the filthiest things he's ever experienced. Tony opens his mouth and lets Bruce push the gag in, the rubber stretching his mouth, uncomfortable and embarrassing and such a fucking turn on.

 

Bruce is looking at him pupils dark with want, as he stands just a hairbreadths way and works the leather straps behind Tony's head with steady fingers. Tony didn't realise it would be so _intimate_ , but it does feel that way when he hasn't got the option of filling the silence by talking.

 

“You look gorgeous,” Bruce breathes out against his cheek, then grazes teeth along his throat, making him release a startled yelp that's muffled by the rubber. He tilts his head in blatant invitation which Bruce takes, biting and sucking marks into his skin.

 

Bruce is crowding him into a desk, hands bracketing his hips and manoeuvring him flush against Bruce's body, it's like he's not even aware of it. Tony tries to push back experimentally, and _yes_ , Bruce's getting that superhuman strength again because he doesn't so much as budge, only growls low in his throat and pins him more securely. The next thing he knows Bruce's large hands are relieving him of his t-shirt and coming to rub on his nipples, going suddenly from gentle to rough, twisting and pinching, making Tony moan against the gag.

 

“Like that, do you?” Bruce asks, and laughs as Tony nods his head enthusiastically. “Pushy. Though I don't suppose anybody has taught you patience or restraint.” Bruce's fingers circle around his wrists. He pushes them behind Tony's back and shifts his hold so that he's got just his left hand wrapped around both of Tony's wrists, which obviously needs to be tested immediately and yeah, god, there's absolutely no give.

 

“I guess it works in your favour that you look so damn hot when you're coming. Do you know how difficult it's been to focus on anything else and not just bend you over and fuck your ass with my fingers and my cock? Especially with that really rather impressive refractory period of yours, knowing that instead of discussing tactics with Steve or picking apart Doombots, I could be making you come over and over again.”

 

Bruce's other hand works Tony's jeans open and slides inside his briefs, cups his cock and balls and rubs, so gently that it's making him a bit crazy. Tony tries to push into the touch but Bruce doesn't give him any more friction, instead pulls his hand back out.

 

“You should get the elevator for us.” Bruce stares Tony right in the eye as he licks the precome off his palm and fingers, filthy and indecent. Tony's brain short-circuits for a good while, he doesn't even register the request-slash-command before Bruce repeats it, letting go of his wrists and taking a step back.

 

Right, they should probably move this out of the lab before somebody walks in on them, not that Tony would mind too much right now. He makes his way to the elevator, holding his pants up with one hand, feeling weird about having to push a button rather than have JARVIS to bring it down. Now that Bruce isn't touching him, he's starting to notice the strain in his jaw from the gag, although it's not too bad yet. It feels kind of hot.

 

He turns back towards Bruce, who's folding his lab coat onto his chair. He's still wearing the glasses and he looks really fucking good in his purple button-up. Tony wants to run his hands all over Bruce's chest, but he waits for Bruce to come to the elevator before making grabby hands at him, then has to quickly reach back with one hand to hold up the jeans. Bruce smirks, that smug sexy bastard, but when he gets into the elevator he pulls Tony firm against him, hands on his ass, which allows Tony work his shirt open and feel that muscle under his palms, sink his fingers into Bruce's chest hair. Bruce sighs, relaxes against him and presses a kiss on Tony's cheek, which is totally embarrassingly sweet.

 

“Penthouse, please, JARVIS. You still okay with the gag?” Tony nods. Bruce kisses his cheek again, and Tony feels his cheeks warming up. “You can't really safeword, but you'll let me know if anything gets too much? Just push me away or tap your fingers against me or kick me or something. Alright?”

 

Bruce's eyes are serious, it feels strangely intimate again, just the two of them in the enclosed space of the elevator. He nods once more, and Bruce smiles. “Good. Thank you.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at Bruce's sappiness and goes back to fondling his chest. Bruce seems amused more than anything, seems to enjoy torturing Tony with silence, and it works, makes him self-conscious and aroused. His erection had begun to vane a bit, but it's coming back full force, and Bruce can obviously tell. Thankfully he can feel that Bruce is at least half-hard himself, feels the heat against his crotch. Bruce's hands are squeezing his ass, but they're not quite grinding against each other. Tony kind of really wants to, is surprised himself that instead of taking his pleasure he'd rather have Bruce give it to him. Just, preferably sooner rather than later.

 

He doesn't have to wait for long to be distracted. As soon as the elevator doors open Bruce grabs a tight hold on his arms and pulls him inside, towards the sitting room. Tony's pants are falling, and Bruce stops just long enough to let him kick them off, then pushes him forwards, manhandling him to the large coffee table, crowding him into it from behind so that his knees are pressed against the sturdy metal edge that frames the glass surface. Tony's heart is beating fast from the surprise, from feeling Bruce's inhuman strength. Bruce's body is solid against his back, his breath heavy and warm against his neck.

 

“Now here's what I expect from you. You'll take your underwear off, then you'll bend over like a good boy. Don't lean against the glass, brace your hands on the edge, further, over the legs of the table so that they'll support your weight. Good. Now open your thighs more.” Bruce's palm caresses over Tony's lower back and onto his ass, way too gentle for how exposed Tony feels. God. The position is straining, and he can see his reflection in the glass. The sight makes him flush. The gag makes him look wanton and dirty, his cock is hard and heavy between his legs, dark head peeking from under the foreskin, glistening. It's even worse when Bruce steps back and walks around him leisurely, and Tony swears he can feel Bruce's appraising gaze on his skin.

 

“Stay there, that's perfect,” Bruce says. He walks over to the centre of the table, retrieving supplies, and then back around, seemingly in no hurry to either take any of his own clothes off or to get to it. Tony's pretty sure Bruce's patience will kill him one day.

 

Finally he feels Bruce behind him, hears him set the condoms on the table, then releases a muffled groan of embarrassment as he feels Bruce parting his asscheeks and squirting lube directly onto his skin, down his crack all the way to his balls. Jesus.

 

The next hour makes Tony convinced that Bruce's patience _will_ drive him crazy. Bruce goes tortuously slow, like it's Tony's first time or something, which couldn't be further from the truth, Bruce should know. He keeps talking to Tony, telling him how hot he looks, how beautiful, telling him how he wants to make him desperate and loose and then fuck him hard, and yet doesn't give it to him, chuckling darkly when the gag muffles Tony's protests.

 

By the time he's four fingers in, Tony's moaning nearly continuously, despite the fact that it makes him drool around the gag. It drips onto the glass surface, and the first time it happened Tony felt himself flush with embarrassment. He's way beyond that now though, seeking pleasure relentlessly, sweating and trembling and pushing into the touch, fucking himself on Bruce's fingers. His cock is leaking onto the table as well, full and hard and throbbing, and God he needs Bruce to touch him there soon, instead of everywhere else like he's been doing.

 

At the same time it makes him aroused in a twisted way that Bruce is denying him release, playing his body right at the brink of it, deliberately avoiding his prostate except for occasional touches that set his brain on fire.

 

Finally, finally Tony has a glimpse of hope when Bruce's fingers withdraw. If Bruce doesn't follow them with his cock Tony's seriously gonna cry. The hope intensifies as Bruce reaches for the condoms, ripping open the packet and growling low in his throat like his patience has finally snapped and crumbled into pieces, like he's as hungry for it as Tony is.

 

Tony can hear him get his pants fully off and then he's pushing in, a bit of blunt pressure before Tony's sphincter gives way and he's being filled, Bruce's cock sliding in smoothly all the way, and fuck if that doesn't feel brilliant. Bruce is groaning now, his large hands like steel on Tony's hips, and apparently he's done with patience, because he doesn't wait a moment before pulling back and slamming into Tony again.

 

White sparks light up behind his eyelids as his body is overwhelmed with sensation, with pleasure, and it's all he can do to hold onto the edges of the table to avoid falling on his face – the glass is good quality but he'd rather not test whether or not it would break. Bruce isn't avoiding his prostate either, anymore, his cock putting constant pressure on it and hitting it with every other thrust or so, and Tony's feeling so fucking overstimulated. He can feel his cock throbbing hot and heavy, and he'd really rather not open his eyes and see his reflection in the glass. Which is of course the entire point of Bruce fucking him over the damn glass table, and he's not granted a long respite before Bruce notices.

 

“Don't hide now, love. You look so good, so fucking hot, you should see how beautiful you are when I'm fucking you.” Tony opens his eyes, feels momentarily dizzy, probably dehydration, but nothing short of an alien invasion could make him gesture for Bruce to pause. He looks as much of a filthy mess as he expected, but right now it only makes his arousal surge. Bruce leans over him, his chest sweaty and hot against Tony's back as he braces himself on the ledge with one arm, his other hand clamping on Tony's shoulder. The next thrust is forceful enough to make Tony almost yell against the gag, and Bruce growls. “That's it, there's a good boy.”

 

Yeah, never mind alien invasion, his tower could be falling down around them and Tony wouldn't give a shit, not when he sees Bruce's expression in the glass, his eyes flashing green and full of desire. Their eyes lock and the way he looks at Tony, Jesus, it makes something tighten in his chest, to be wanted like that--

 

Bruce's hand leaves bruises on his shoulder, but he finally circles his fingers around Tony's cock, pulling in time with his thrusts, and this time Tony does yell into the gag, the noise escaping him uncontrolled as he stumbles over the edge, holding on for dear life as he trembles, come shooting out of his cock and splashing on the table.

 

He's oversensitive as hell as Bruce keeps fucking him, the thrusts force pained groans out of his throat, but he still pushes into it, his need to have Bruce lose control and come inside him much stronger than any physical discomfort. It still feels good physically as well, overwhelmingly so, Bruce's body around him and inside him, hot and powerful. And Bruce is losing control, chasing his own pleasure with his eyes closed, hands holding Tony's sides as his hips snap faster into Tony. There's low growls escaping him that sound instinctive, feral. Tony feels that tightness in his chest again for getting to be here, getting to have Bruce like this, to see this side of him that's always pushed under the surface by his iron control.

 

Bruce leans closer and his teeth find Tony's neck, and _fuck_ it hurts, makes him gasp for breath and fucking whimper. Bruce growls and trembles, teeth biting into Tony's skin as he comes.

 

It's a few more moments before Bruce slumps over him, and Tony's pretty impressed that he retains enough brain function to catch himself on the edges of the table. Tony nudges him with a shoulder, and Bruce half takes the hint – he reaches one hand to open the straps of the gag, but doesn't move his body an inch, stays wrapped around him, chest to his back, his cock still inside Tony. Working the straps one-handed takes more time, but finally they open, and Tony spits out the gag onto the glass table, flexing his jaw. He's about to rub the skin, but Bruce is quicker, catching the hand with his own and pressing it down. “Don't.”

 

Tony eyes him in the glass. “Seriously?”

 

Bruce smiles darkly. “Yes, seriously. I'm not done with you.”

 

Fuck. Yeah okay, Tony's muscles are screaming, but that's never stopped him before. And those thoughts he often has, and sometimes says out loud, about wanting Bruce to fuck him all the time, they don't seem to exaggerate much. Still. “Mind letting me up at least?”

 

“Not yet, gorgeous,” Bruce says. Tony can feel his cheeks warming and he can just hope it's not a full blown blush. Somehow it's a lot different to hear that kind of pet name from Bruce's lips now than it is when they're both in the middle of fucking. “You still need to clean up.”

 

Tony blames his post-coital state for it taking a few seconds for it to click, but when it does, he's definitely blushing. Bruce raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and _fine_ , Tony can totally play this game, too.

 

He lowers his chest slowly, leans more weight on his arms and then his forearms, which he braces carefully against the metal, until his face is right above the table. He pushes his ass into Bruce to make sure his cock doesn't slip out, and wiggles more than necessary. Then he reaches his tongue out to lick come off the glass surface, and tightens his muscles, making Bruce draw a sharp breath.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bruce curses.

 

Tony licks off more come and swallows it before looking at Bruce innocently. “You're not sensitive, are you?”

 

“Ohh, fuck,” Bruce bites out as Tony tightens his ass around Bruce's cock again. He can feel Bruce is softening, but his cock gives an interested twitch, and Tony wonders if he can make Bruce erect again like this – it hadn't taken very long last time, Tony remembers Bruce had been well on his way once they had relocated from the common area to Tony's bedroom.

 

Unfortunately, Bruce doesn't give him a chance to find out. He pulls out, and it's only when Tony hears the sounds that he remembers about the condom. Right. Wouldn't really work very well if Bruce stayed inside him. He has a fleeting thought about STI tests and whether they could arrange to go without, but startles out of his thoughts by Bruce's hand around his neck. “Wha--?”

 

“I told you I wasn't done with you, baby. Get on your knees, and turn around.”

 

Tony follows as Bruce's hand guides him in place to kneel before him. The grip on his neck isn't tight but it's firm, and Tony doubts he could break it if he tried. He's too sated to feel so much aroused as content, somehow calmed into a deep sense of safety by Bruce's firm touch. He looks up and meets Bruce's eyes, smiles at him. Bruce's expression softens, and his thumb caresses along the nape of Tony's neck. He still doesn't let go, and Tony's glad of it.

 

“Come on,” Bruce says. “Clean up the rest and I'll take you to bed.”

 

Tony's feeling sort of slow and hazy, but he catches Bruce's drift and leans against him, braces his hands on Bruce's thighs as he licks on his half-hard cock, from tip to its base, tasting Bruce's come and sweat. When he's done, he leans his head against Bruce's thigh until he feels Bruce urge him to stand up. Tony stumbles a little bit, smiles at Bruce, who's frowning for some reason as he wraps an arm around Tony and leads him to the kitchen. There he fills a glass of water and tells Tony to drink it, then pulls him into his chest after he obeys.

 

“Whoa,” Tony says after a few moments, when his brain starts to come back online.

 

Bruce peers at him intently. “You alright, Tony?”

 

He looks all guilty and alarmed, and that shakes Tony fully out of it. “Yeah, man, I'm okay. Haven't gone that deep in a while.”

 

“You mean that's happened before?”

 

“Yeah, sometimes when I'm subbing. When did we eat something? That tends to help.”

 

“Shit, I'm sorry. God.” Bruce is about to move to the fridge, but stops when Tony wraps an arm around him.

 

“Not so fast, Green Bean,” he says, while looking Bruce straight in the eye. “First of all, I'm still leaning on you, so it would be rude of you to move before helping me to sit. Second of all, no guilt trips. I was happily and enthusiastically consenting, and it's not like I don't sometimes pass out in the lab when I haven't eaten--”

 

“When do you pass out in the lab and why haven't you told--?”

 

“--and third, I liked that, I want to do it again, and I don't want you thinking that you're not good enough for me, because I think I'm kind of totally in love with you and will absolutely fight you on that and I'd rather we do something better with our time.”

 

“...Um. You think you're--”

 

“In love with you. Yeah, that. And don't make me say it a third time, because there's only so much emotional vulnerability I can handle in one conversation. Hnngh--”

 

Tony's kind of confused, but his questions are muffled by Bruce, who's gripping him too tight to talk, and finally sort of answered by Bruce's irritated and relieved voice. “I love you too, you reckless idiot. Now sit down and eat some goddamn food already.”

 

Yeah okay, Tony can do that.

 

 

 


End file.
